Flashing Back and Forth
by SomeoneNewer
Summary: Even though she's gone, he just can't shake her. *This is a follow-up to Changes, so reading that first will be helpful.*
1. Chapter 1

_I'm a path of cinders_

_Burning under your feet_

_You're the one who walks me_

_I'm your one way street_

_**Bjork - Bachelorette**_

Millie's Burgers and Shakes. The tacky, 1950's inspired logo glared up at him from the take out menu he'd pulled from the brown paper bag some grunt had brought his food in. Mint green, chrome-looking trim. You know the style. There's a similar diner on every street in every city in America, it seemed. Always with the same, middle-aged, overweight, moody waitress and the same over worked, tired, bald cook. The menus are always the same with cutesy, '50s callback names. They always serve their Coke in glass bottles and play the same 5 Elvis songs on loop. And, yet, this one was different. This one caught his attention. Because it was familiar. That bothered him.

It bothered him because it was a type of familiarity that came from his gut, not his mind. Few things could make him feel uneasy. His gut, and familiar things like this one, could get him every time. Moments like this were so rare for him. Even more rare as time went on. He'd been the Joker for so long now that these flashes of memory from another man's life felt foreign, and left a sour taste in his mouth. And, so, he stared back at the logo. He dragged it, kicking and screaming, around every corner and into every nook and cranny in his brain until, finally, it came back to him. Everything stopped. A silent gasp of a laugh left his unsmiling lips.

"The movies lied," he said quietly to himself, remembering a conversation from another life. "No one does it like that!" And suddenly it was like he was living that life. Sitting in a tacky, bright, 1950's theme diner, across from a pretty redhead with a smile crinkling the corners of her eyes, and a milkshake in her hand.

...

"Of course they lied!" Kaylie laughed from across the table, shoving a French fry into her mouth. "Imagine the fire hazard!"

They were both eating and laughing as they ate. The restaurant wasn't busy, but the atmosphere was great. It was their first time there. A small, greasy spoon type of place halfway between home and Wild Card.

"But it's romantic, is the point," Jack continued. "There'd always be this chick, picture it with me, now," he talked quickly, and with his hands, like he always did when he was excited about something. She smiled at him, enraptured, and took a sip from their shared milkshake. "Blond hair, perfectly, uh, perfectly-"

"Coiffed?" She offered.

"- coiffed, thank you. Perfectly coiffed. Makeup, immaculate. Red lips. Bedroom eyes. Oh, and the hair," he snapped his fingers before waving a hand over one side of his face. "Kind of half over the eye, like that, right?" Kaylie nodded for him to continue. "Silk nightgown. Red..." He thought a moment. "... Or it could be white... lace over the cleavage. Matching robe, right? Sheer," he swooped his hand down behind him. "Practically dragging on the floor. Faux fur... maybe feathers... around these huge sleeves and around the edges of the thing. Pearl necklace... a, uh, a real one," he winked. "You see her, Sugar?"

She nodded again, brown eyes rolling at his crude humor. "I see her, Jack."

He clapped his hands. "Perfect. And her guy - husband, boyfriend, boss - whatever he may be - comes home - three piece suit - walks into the bedroom, and there she is," he dramatically bites his knuckle. "Lit up only by the million or so candles she's got through the entire room. And he just knows... And you just know... y'know?"

"Yeah," Kaylie agrees, sighing dreamily. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Everyone does!" He exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table, definitely harder than he meant to. "But no one does it in real life."

She sipped the milkshake thoughtfully, eyes twinkling at his enthusiasm. "I'll do it for you, Jack," she offered. "I'm short a few hundred thousand candles, but I'll do my best," she laughed.

He sputtered. "Well, uh... if you want to, Sugar... who would I be to, uh, protest?" He joined her at the milkshake, taking a quick sip from his straw.

"Just don't tell me when," he took a big bite from his burger, and grinned cheekily at his girl.

...

Time passed. And passed. Eventually Jack forgot about Kaylie's generous offer. Then, one night, he came home a little late from work. It was expected, Kaylie knew he'd be behind her by a couple of hours. She had taken the news surprisingly well, considering she never liked him to work late at the club. When he walked in, he noticed immediately that the apartment was dark, except for a warm glow coming from down the hall. He smirked as he realized what was happening. He kicked the door closed, locked it hurriedly, and set his things down on the island. Stopping at the mirror by the door, he smoothed his hair back and checked his teeth before walking with an exaggerated swagger towards the glow down the hallway.

"Honey," he called out in a comically deepened voice. "I'm home."

He took in the sight as he rounded the door frame into their bedroom. The candles were scattered over every surface in the room. The dressers, bedside tables, window sill, and the wall shelves. Despite all that, what caught and held his eye was on the bed. She laid on her side, facing the door, propped up on one elbow. Kaylie. She looked perfect. Her red hair hung in loose curls around her face, swept over to one side, casting an elegant shade on half of her face. Her lips were bold and red, not her usual style, but striking against her fair skin. And the get-up. An excited smile flashed across Jacks face. She was wearing a long, white, satin nightgown Jack had never seen before, and a matching sheer white robe, trimmed with soft, faux fur. Her nails were even painted a bright red to match her lips.

"Just in time," she purred with an arrogant smile of her own. "Coming to bed?" She patted the bed next to her, invitingly.

"Try to stop me," Jack practically pounced onto the bed, crashing his lips to hers hungrily. He felt a laugh pass between them as she opened her mouth to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her around onto her back, straddling her legs. She grinned as he sat up, about to pull his shirt over his head, when something near the window caught his eye, and he was struck with a sudden feeling of unease.

One of the candles on the bedside table was precariously close to the curtains, and it was rocking ever closer to them with the commotion on the bed. "We've got to take it easy, Sugar," he stammered, nervous. "Or blow out some of these candles."

He moved to get off of her, but she stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey... it's fine, Jack. Don't worry about it," she spoke softly, reassuringly. "Come back to me."

He looked into her soft, brown eyes for a moment, and when he looked back at the candle, it had set the curtain alight. It burned as if in slow motion, not like a curtain should burn. The flames crept up the curtain like it was sneaking up on ceiling. "Kaylie..." he was frozen, staring into the fire. He couldn't move. She wouldn't let him.

"It's okay, Jack," she coaxed. "Let it burn." He looked down at her again, but she'd changed. She was covered in blood and bruises. Her hair matted and wet with her own blood. Her beautiful white gown smeared and spattered with red. Her beautiful face swollen and discoloured. One of her eyes was even swelled shut. "Let it all burn down around us."

She started tugging him down, though he resisted. Despite her gentle demeanor, he was unable to physically resist her for long, and eventually he collapsed into her. She hugged him close and tight, his face buried in her neck. She stunk of copper and smoke as the fire danced across the wall in front of his face. The whole bedroom was burning at this point, pieces of it crumbling around them. "Everything burnt," she whispered, her voice trembling as the flames kicked and lashed at their skin. "You didn't even notice."

...

The Jokers eyes snapped awake and he bolted upright from his desk. The take out menu was still in his hand. He sneered at it and balled his hand into a fist. The food, long gone cold, held no interest to him. He grabbed the paper bag along with the menu and tossed them both into the trash, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet as he did. Irritated, he raked his hands through his stringy, green hair and paced the room, trying to push the dream out of his mind, but he could still smell the fire.

No, no, no, wait. He could still see the fire. He squinted in the direction of his bedroom and tensed. Flickering. Not roaring. No smoke. Just a gentle, delicate flicker. He stalked stiffly towards the door, but stopped short of walking through it. Candles. Too many of them. Illuminating plans, weapons, face paint, and playing cards. And Harley in a black and red teddy kneeling on the bed with a proud grin. "See somethin' ya like, Puddin'?" She cooed.

He snarled, wiping a weathered hand down over his face. He wasn't in any mood for her games tonight. "Well, gee, Harls, now that you mention it, you could hand me that blanket," he barked mockingly, pointing at a dark lump that had been pushed to the bottom of the bed, but not stepping foot into the room.

Harley crumpled. She knew better than to push her luck. Pouting, she hauled the blanket until the one remaining tucked corner popped free, balled it up and tossed it to the door. He caught it before it hit his face. Harley turned away and threw herself onto the bed in a dramatic huff. All she wanted was some attention, and he was the one who was muttering about candles in the other room.

He rolled his eyes and briefly considered shooting her in the spine, before turning on his heel and walking towards the sofa on the far side of his office. "Oh," he called over his shoulder as a harsh afterthought. "Blow those damn things out, will ya? How ridiculous would it be for me to perish in an accidental fire, hmm?"

He smirked to himself as he heard her repeat him in a quiet, whining tone and get up. Then he dropped himself onto the sofa and let the blanket fall to the floor. "Like you could even hold a candle to her, anyway," he grumbled to himself. Then started to chuckle. The chuckling soon erupted into hyena-like cackling.

"A candle!"

...

A/N : Well, it's been a long time coming, but I've finally got a little something for you guys. This will only have 3 chapters, and they'll all be in a similar style. Little things that bring memories crashing down. I'm sorry I never got around to posting the alternate ending. The reason I decided not to do that is because it would have opened it up way too much. Anyone who is super curious about it, feel free to PM me, and I will send you the snippets I have and give you the idea of how it would have gone, but I never fleshed it out at all.

I hope you like this. I hope to have all three chapters up within a month or two, so there shouldn't be any long waits. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm a fountain of blood_

_In the shape of a girl_

_You're the bird on the brim_

_Hypnotized by the whirl_

_**Bjork - Bachelorette**_

Nearly two fucking hours. That's how long he'd been trying to sleep next to Harley while she's been trying to cough up a lung next to him. He knew she'd been coming down with something for a while. She'd been fighting off sniffles and shakes for a couple of weeks. She'd been sluggish on jobs, and mopey around the hideout, but now she was shaking the entire bed, slicing through the silence with sharp, hacking coughs. Worse still, they were a short three hours away from having to get up and go pull a big job, one on which there wasn't a whole lot of room for error, and one he most definitely couldn't spare her on.

He was trying really hard to resist the urge to kick her out of the bed - literally - and send her to the sofa, so at least one of them could be rested for tonight. Instead, he gave one last-ditch effort to roll over and took his pillow with him, covering his ears with it as he went. It blocked her out just enough that he was finally able to drift off into a restless sleep, dreaming about another time he'd been kept up by a coughing woman next to him.

...

Not quite 2 hours. That's the most sleep she may have gotten. Jack knew this because he looked at the clock every time she woke up coughing. He also knew this because her breathing was so ragged when she did fall asleep that he was terrified of sleeping, himself, lest it stop altogether. He was making some food for her when he heard her pad out into the hall and into the bathroom, followed by the sound of the shower starting. He narrowed his eyes, hoping she wasn't thinking of doing what he suspected she was doing. Just the same, he was stunned, and half annoyed, when she came out of the bathroom dressed in her work clothes with her hair pulled back.

"Where you headed, Sugar?" He called.

"Work," she forced out in a barely there, raspy honk.

He sighed. "You're barking like a dog, it's freezing outside, and your hair's still wet," he began. "I stayed up all night listening to you hack and wheeze because I wasn't sure if you'd stop breathing or not, Kaylie. No way," he shook his head, laying the towel over his shoulder and walking away from the dishes he'd been doing to round the island and touch the back of his hand to her face.

"Forget it, Sugar. You're on fire. You can hardly speak. Frankly, you're a hazard to public health," he laughed. "You didn't sleep a wink. The only place you're going, if you insist on leaving the bed, is to the couch. I already called around for you. Wendy's going in. She was happy for the extra shift. You're covered."

He braced himself, preparing for her to resist, to argue, and to insist that she was fine. She wasn't one to take direction like this easily, and to be fair, he really wasn't one to give it to her, but with her as sick as she was, there was no way he was going to let her go to work for eight hours. He was relieved, instead, when she gave a deep sigh and her shoulders dropped in relief. She nodded. "You're right. Thank you, Jack."

He relaxed with her. "Anything for my girl. C'mon," he gently led her to the sofa with a hand on her shoulder. "I've got it all set up for ya," he gestured towards the sofa.

"I got three blankets here, you just lay down and pull one, two, or all of 'em down on you and it'll be like a cocoon," sure enough he had the blankets open across the seat and back of the sofa, so if she laid down on them, she could wrap herself right up. "I went over to my place and got my laptop and got a couple movies ready to go," he pointed to the coffee table, where his laptop was sitting open, paused movie on the screen. Next to it, a box of tissue, and a large bottle of water.

"Down here, there's a little trash can for your snot rags," they both chuckled. "There's another bottle of water in the fridge, along with a couple sandwiches, and there's soup on the stove. It's warm now, if you want some, but I turned it off, so if you want it later, just turn it on and warm it up."

She leaned into him weakly, snuggling herself under his chin. He pressed a firm kiss into her hair. "You take such good care of me," she choked on the last word, erupting into another fit of coughs. Jack rubbed her back.

"I said 'anything,' didn't I?" He eased her down into the couch. "C'mon, get comfy, feet up. Once the cats realize there's a mini blanket fort, you know they'll be out to keep you company," she smiled at him, which was always his goal.

He stood and walked back around the sofa, in the direction of the door. "I do have to go to work, but I'll be back in a little while. I expect you to be in bed by then," he raised his eyebrows and pointed a finger at her. "Oh!" He snapped his fingers, remembering something. "I got some pills from my place, specifically for cough and cold. I put them in your med cabinet in the bathroom."

She nodded, smiled, and gave him a thumbs up over the back of the sofa, not wanting to waste her breath on anymore talking, except for three words. "I love you."

He grinned, taking one long, leaping step to the sofa, leaning down, wrapping one hand around the back of her head to press another kiss to her head. He cupped that hand around her chin has he pulled away, stroking the too-hot skin there before letting his forehead drop to hers. "I love you so much, Sugar," he pecked a light kiss to the tip of her nose before hurriedly pulling away. "I gotta go! Call if you need anything. See you later!"

He saw her wave as he turned to close the door.

...

When he's a block away from home after finishing his shift, he sees an eerie, flickering, orange glow in Kaylie's apartment window. He freezes, just for a second then he bolts towards the building. He flies up the stairs, taking as many at a time as he can. It seems as though there are a dozen more flights to ascend tonight. There's no alarm. There's no activity in the halls. But when he reaches their floor, there's smoke billowing out from under her door.

The doorknob is cool to his touch when he throws the door open. The room isn't filled with smoke, like it should have been after what he saw pouring out from under the door. There is fire coming from multiple places, but not traveling from any of them, like they'd been set to burn just where they were. The dish towel on the stove was alight where he had discarded it earlier. The laptop cord, too, was aflame, from where it plugged into the computer, straight to the wall. The fire that filled him with the most dread, though, was the bundle of smoldering blankets on the sofa, red-head of hair peeking out through them over the arm. Something is playing on the laptop, despite the burning cord.

"Sugar?" He walks closer, feeling sick seeing the familiar scene playing on the screen. She shouldn't be seeing this. "Whatcha watching?"

She turns her head to him, tears in her brown eyes, voice cracking. "Why didn't you tell me?" She points at the screen, turning back to face it as she burns in the blankets. "Why didn't you help me?"

He looks back to the screen and sees himself. A memory that hasn't happened yet, but feels like a lifetime ago. He's standing in front of a warehouse, which is completely engulfed in flames. He can feel the gravel under his feet as he watches himself walk across it. He feels as though he could turn his head and still see the car waiting for him to return. He places a Jokers card upright in the dirt as he watches the building burn. His future calling card. Staking claim.

"I'm so sorry, Sugar."

"I'm burning," she cries, her tone pained and panicked. She turns back to him once again, this time her face is melting off. He can see the angry, raw flesh underneath. "I'm burning and you just stand there and watch!"

...

He wakes violently to the sound of a harsh cough and grimaces when he looks and sees Harley bent over the side of the bed. She's gripping the sheets, focusing on catching her breath between fits of coughing. She's shaking, stiff, and sweating. He rolls over and sits up, facing her. He pats her roughly, twice, in the center of her back. She turns her head towards him and he sees tears in the corner of her eye from the painful exertion of her coughing. He sees a silent plea for mercy in that eye. He doesn't show her any.

"Come on, Harley," he sighs. He turns back to his side of the bed and puts both feet on the floor.

"Time to go to work."

...

A/N: Part 2/3! I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to those who have read, reviewed, faved, and followed this story. I'm hoping to have part 3 up soon so that I can move on to the next thing. I've got a bit of an ambitious project mapped out that I'm hoping to share with you all very soon. But, knowing how much you love Changes, I wanted to give you a bit more of this first, especially seeing I dropped the ball where the alternate ending is concerned. Thanks, guys!


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm a whisper in water_

_Secret for you to hear_

_You are the one who grows distant_

_When I beckon you near_

_**Bjork - Bachelorette**_

A night off. Rarely these days did he get a night off, what, with his little operation being so busy and all. He was never really sure what to do with himself. Harley suggested a romantic evening in together, glancing hopefully at him from across the table, while trying to look sultry. Naturally, that resulted in his decision to leave the hideout alone. And now, wandering the streets on a late, mild, Spring evening, had absolutely no idea how to occupy himself.

Thankfully, it was a weeknight, so not terribly busy on the streets of Gotham. He kept a light scarf wrapped loosely and naturally around his face and neck to cover his scars, and a loose-fitting beanie covering his green hair. A charcoal knit sweater and loose, torn jeans and he fit right in with all those trendy folks around. He came upon a coffee shop, taking advantage of the nice weather and indulging in an open- air type of sing-song to-do, spilling out over the sidewalk. He rolled his eyes and crossed the street as he approached. Blend in, though he may, he didn't have any interest in getting in the middle of them.

As he crossed the street he heard the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar, and the rasp of a feminine voice singing along. Aerosmith, he recognized. Crazy. He narrowed his eyes as though the song title was aimed at him, as that particular jab often was, stopping across the street and leaning on a lamp post, folding his arms and swinging one leg across the other to rest, toe first, on the ground.

He couldn't see much between the distance and the crowd, but he could hear clearly enough, if a little bit muffled. He could see that the woman was slight and blonde. Her hair was long and pin straight. He couldn't see the bottom of it from his vantage point. She had a black hat on, and a black jacket. She wasn't playing the guitar. A man was playing and smiling along at her. As the music played, he was easily transported through time, to a time where there was another pretty girl singing, just for him. She played her own guitar and blushed just a little bit whenever their eyes met.

...

"Okay, but you can't look at me like that," she sighed, face already turning pink.

"Like what, Sugar?" He laughed, excited that she was finally going to play something for him.

"Like..." a pause. "That!" She flailed her arms, getting to her feet to retrieve her guitar. "Like you're expecting something incredible to happen," her voice raised slightly as she disappeared down the hall, to ensure she was still easily heard. "Like I'm not going to forget every other word of whatever I play, knowing you're right here hanging on them all," she came back into the room, looking as nervous as he'd ever seen her, and threw the guitar strap over her as she sat down on the arm of the chair, leaving her slippers on the floor as she brought her feet up onto the seat, taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes. "Okay?"

He smiled lovingly at her. "No promises," was his quiet reply.

Another deep breath. "Okay, so, what should I play? What kind of song?"

He scoffed, feigning offense. "You mean there's something besides love songs when we're together?"

"A love song?" She raised a brow. He nodded. "Something upbeat?"

Another nod. "Now you're talkin', Sugar."

A big sigh. "Okay," she squeezed her eyes shut. "Here goes."

Her fingers strummed easily along the strings. He was immediately impressed by how naturally she was able to play the instrument. Like it extended from her, in the same way limbs extend from a person, and as easily commanded. It took him a moment or two to recognize the song, but eventually he smiled as it came to him just before she started singing.

"_Imagine me and you, I do_

_I think about you day and night, it's only right_

_To think about the one you love and hold 'em tight_

_So happy together_," her voice was as pretty as ever, if just barely trembling with nerves. She reddened under his gaze as she looked up briefly into his eyes, but seemed to relax a bit thereafter, and continued.

"_If I should call you up, invest a dime_

_And you say you belong to me and ease my mind_

_Imagine how the world could be, so very fine_

_So happy together_," she beamed at him, meeting the grin that had been plastered on his face since she sat down, and he laughed silently, joining her for the chorus.

"_I can't see me lovin' nobody but you_

_For all my life_

_When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue_

_For all my life_," his voice was rocky and unrehearsed, but he carried the tune well enough, and she was glad for his lightheartedness and easily-found joy in the moment. That was her Jack.

"Keep it up, Wild Card!" She cheered, standing up on the chair and swaying her hips as she played. He followed suit, hopping up onto the couch and singing along with her.

"_Me and you and you and me_

_No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be_

_The only one for me is you, and you for me_

_So happy together_," his standing on the couch had evolved into full on dancing on the couch, and ultimately, he stumbled onto the floor, clumsily, barely saving himself from falling.

He swaggered over to the chair where she had stopped playing guitar and had brought her hands up to cover her face as she full-on laughed at his antics. He gently took the guitar from her and set it on the couch behind him, both of them still laughing. He wrapped his arms around her, just below her waist, and lifted her down from the chair, placing her carefully on the floor before him. His arms moved up as he stood, but he kept her encircled in them.

"That was awesome, Sugar," he said as their laughter quieted. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Jack," her voice still had laughter in it. "You definitely stole the show. I'll never be able to sing again now," she joked, dramatically.

"Now, don't be ridiculous, Sugar," he chided. "The Beckford would never be the same without hearing Ern say, 'ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stage, Kaylie -'"

...

"Kamryn Graves!" An announcers voice boomed, clear as a bell, through the sound system across the street, tearing the Joker from his pleasant reverie, into a - now confusing - reality.

Had the voice really just said that? He wondered, crossing the road, cautiously, hoping to catch a glimpse of this Graves woman before she disappeared into the crowd. But the crowd was dispersing, and blondie wasn't in his sight. He scanned the coffee shop's exterior walls when he was in front of it. Looking for a sign, a poster, anything. There was no such luck. Just a piece of paper with "Open Mic Night" scrawled across it in marker.

He approached a straggler having a smoke on the curb, maybe waiting for a ride. He cleared his throat, carefully altering the pitch of his usually recognizable voice. "Excuse me," he began. "Did you catch what that last singers name was?"

The man turned towards him with a warm smile. "Yeah, he said Kamryn Graves, I'm pretty sure, man," he confirmed. "Her first time at an open mic here. Shawn brought her. Good, huh?"

"Mmm," he nodded dismissively. "Thanks," he smacked an open hand on the gentleman's arm gratefully before crossing the road once more and opening up his cell phone, hitting 2 on the speed dial and bringing it impatiently to his ear, pacing the sidewalk as it rang.

"Yeah?" Doc's gruff voice, tired and impatient, but ever at the ready.

"Meet me at the graveyard on Holland. You know the one," he barked. "Bring someone... someone expendable."

"... Boss?" Confusion.

"And shovels," he added. "Twenty minutes. Be there," he snapped the phone shut and starts in the direction of the graveyard. It was shaping up to be an interesting night off.

...

Fourteen minutes. He'd told Doc twenty and he arrived in fourteen. Couldn't buy loyalty like that. Now the two of them, along with a man the Joker didn't recognize, but who looked utterly thrilled to be there with the boss and his right hand man, were standing halfway in the grave of someone who had been dead, at this point, for over three years. About to dig her up.

"What did you say you heard, boss?" Doc was panting as he shovelled, and trying to get things straight in his head.

The Joker groaned, sweating as he helped to dig. "Singing," he sneered. "There was singing, and then there was a name."

"Singing and a name?" Doc paused, stretching backward before picking up his work again. "That's it?"

"It's hard to explain," he growled. "The voice was familiar," he explained. "And the name was Cameron Graves," now the Joker paused his work. "Tell me, ah, Doc," he licked his lips. "Where are we standing?"

Doc scanned the head stones at the family plot. Five of them bore the name "Cameron." Including the one they were about three feet into digging up. And so, they continued to work, silently, until one of their shovels finally connected with something hard.

"There it is," the Joker huffed triumphantly. "C'mon," he started working faster, the other two following suit, until the casket was completely exposed, along with a bit of wiggle room on either side, to allow them to open it. "Crowbar?" He held out his hand and was quickly handed the desired tool.

It wasn't as difficult as he had imagined to break into the casket. The right tools and the right amount of pressure and he was quickly rewarded with the sharp crack of wood splitting open. He waited, looking to Doc, who was standing at the foot of the box with whoever he had brought with him. "You're sure, now," the Joker glared at him. "You're sure there was a body?"

Doc nodded somberly. "All of the intel I have said that the Bat pulled a body out of the warehouse, and that she was ID'd as Kaylie Cameron. The family buried three bodies."

With a hard nod, the Joker heaved the lid of the casket open. No body. No body, no remains, no ashes. Photographs. Hundreds of them. Letters. A couple articles of clothing. Sheet music. Even a couple of teddy bears. Everything inside something that Kaylie would have treasured. But no Kaylie, herself.

He looked back to Doc, who looked stunned. His jaw was practically on the ground. "I don't understand."

"No?" The Jokers voice was high and dangerous. "Well, let me explain it to you. We got played," he threw his arms out to his sides and laughed a deadly laugh. "By the Bat-Man, and the owner of this prime real-estate."

"How?" Doc was genuinely shocked, the Joker could tell it wasn't a ruse.

"What does it matter, 'how?'" The third party finally chipped in. "Let's get the bitch and bring her home," he nodded enthusiastically and puffed his chest out proudly.

The Joker shrugged. "He's got a point," in one fluid motion, the Joker whipped a knife out of the pocket of his jeans and cut through everything of value in the mans neck, letting him fall face first into the casket. The lid fell closed with the force and the Joker hopped easily out of the grave. "Thanks for the tip."

Doc crawled out with a bit more effort, but was soon standing next to the tense, seething, out of costume clown. "What do you wanna do, boss?"

The Joker glanced sideways at Doc. "You heard the man, Doc," he shook his head.

"Let's find her, and bring her home."

..

A/N - Ta-Da! Many of you had hoped she'd have survived, and of course Batman went in after her! She pulled through and I have a hell of a ride in store for anyone who is interested. I hope you all enjoy this, and the rest of the story as it unfolds. Or, stories, rather. Like I said, it's a very ambitious project, and there will actually be 4 more installments. One will be 3-5 chapters, but the other 3 are shaping up to be full length stories. I really hope at least some of you are as excited about this as I am. I love these characters and I hope to take them, as well as some new ones, on a crazy journey. Thanks to all who read, review, fave, and follow. See you soon with Kaylie/Kamryn's story!


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